When Silo was alone, he liked to let his mind wander, thinking about all sorts of random things. But he didn't enjoy imagining impossible things, so people who had already died rarely appeared in his thoughts.
As for why he developed this habit, it was purely because there was too little entertainment back in his hometown. Aside from burning, killing, and looting, there wasn't much else to enjoy.
That couldn't be helped, because the activities the adults liked held no interest for him, which meant the things he could play with shrank by a large margin.
But it was different here. The games Silo could play were no longer limited to blood, gore, and violence! Though they were boring, somehow those little farming and fishing games managed to eat up a lot of his time. By the time he snapped back to reality, an entire day had already passed.
— Yes, what could possibly stop a Kryptonian from understanding the world? If Silo really wanted to, he could investigate the entire world in a single day and learn things he shouldn't know.
The reason he'd stayed trapped in Metropolis for so long, spending almost a month there, aside from the sun outside being too strong, was purely… hehe, games were just too fun.
But Silo still remembered to keep some brain cells active. He noticed that if he didn't collect Kryptonite soon, his future operations would become several times more difficult. That was when he slung on his Superman backpack and shuffled out of Metropolis in his flip-flops.
Kryptonite was still his top priority, so tonight he'd have to look up that unscrupulous merchant again. Silo thought this as he mentally reserved Black Mask's coffin, pondering what method would be more amusing—
"Help!"
"**!"
A sharp female voice accompanied by struggling and a man's curses reached Silo's ears simultaneously. Silo met the desperate, pleading gaze of the threatened woman, and also saw the man squinting his eyes and walking toward him with a raised baton. It dawned on him belatedly— right, this wasn't his hometown anymore.
Back in his hometown, normal people either turned and ran when they saw him, or turned and ran, or else turned and ran. Who would ever voluntarily approach him?
"Kid, blame your bad luck for running into me today!" The man sneered, seeming to think he looked impressive, but true strength was never judged by outward appearances— Silo also couldn't be bothered to point out that the woman who looked scared out of her wits, seemingly unable to fight back and too weak-legged to walk, had now turned and fled without a moment's hesitation.
Though it wasn't his hometown, it really was a lot like his hometown. Even though he'd said it many times, Silo couldn't help sighing again.
Silo didn't feel particularly threatened. He just found it boring. If it were before, he might have had some interest in toying with the guy.
But now… Silo's hand, which he was about to raise, suddenly paused. He let the man approaching him so easily grab his shoulder.
The man's expression flickered with confusion for a moment— he felt like he was gripping a sheet of iron.
But when he pushed harder, the texture under his hand became as soft as a normal person's. So he cast the brief dissonance aside, writing it off as his imagination. Twirling his dagger, he taunted, "Didn't anyone teach you what not to do before you came to Gotham, out-of-towner?"
Silo answered obediently, "I do have a Gotham friend."
The man raised an eyebrow. "And then?"
Silo: "He died."
The man paused for a moment, and even the force in his grip unconsciously loosened. But when he met Silo's innocent, clear eyes that held not a trace of fear, a strange surge of embarrassed anger welled up in him.
Why wasn't this kid— who looked so out of touch, so boring, so obviously a bookworm— afraid of him?
But just as he swung his fist with all his might— a Birdarang, unsharpened, flew in first and knocked his hand aside. The man let out a pained howl, releasing his grip and stumbling back several steps.
The colorful Robin landed lightly, and with the sound of fists connecting with flesh, he effortlessly took down this would-be criminal.
"Thanks to that lady's help, she told me where you were." Robin frowned at Silo.
He'd personally sent Silo home, and yet here it was, this late, and the guy was still out wandering? How dare he? Provoking criminals was never a good choice— this wasn't his Metropolis. Tim was a little angry.
He was about to say something when he saw the boy before him— who was by no means frail— blink, and his innocent expression was instantly overtaken by pitifulness— wait? What was that? Was he crying?!
Tim's eyes flew wide open. He instinctively stepped closer to Silo, and incidentally stomped on the man as he passed, asking worriedly, "Did he lay a hand on you? Where are you hurt? Let me see!"
The man, who hadn't managed to do anything at all before being beaten up by Robin, stared at Silo's direction in disbelief. Before he could even plead his innocence, he was stomped unconscious under the weight of his own deep resentment.
A single tear clung to Silo's long lashes, his eyes rimmed with red. On the verge of crying, he said, "That was so scary just now—he suddenly rushed at me and startled me. Good thing you came quickly, Little Robin, or I wouldn't have known what to do."
With that, Silo sniffled pitifully. "I never ran into anything like this in Metropolis…"
Only I ever robbed others—no one ever dared touch me.
Tim indicated that he'd never encountered this either! Gothamites seemed to naturally possess sturdier nerves than out-of-towners. Aside from children, few people openly displayed their emotions like this, and looked so… pitiful. Apart from comforting kids, Tim really had no experience with this sort of thing.
But recalling that this guy came from Metropolis and had only been in Gotham for a little over a week, Tim felt everything could be explained.
On the very first day, when he'd been robbed, Tim had already taken care of the robber before the guy even got a chance to threaten him, so it was understandable that Silo hadn't had a real sense of danger. But this time, the criminal had actually laid hands on him. Silo had truly realized what Gotham meant, felt the danger and fear belatedly, and it was normal for an emotionally expressive Metropolian to burst out like this.
After all, Silo Sunlight was just an underage Metropolian who hadn't received much social education, had barely left home, and had never encountered real danger!
Tim heard Dick's low chuckle through the earpiece. The seasoned Bludhaven vigilante asked curiously, [Your friend?]
Robin ruthlessly cut the communication in the middle of Nightwing's teasing.
Tim softened his tone, confirmed that Silo had no injuries, and comforted him, "Don't be scared. Can you still walk? Should I walk you home?"
Pausing, Tim recalled the process Batman had taught him for comforting children, pulled a handful of candy from his pocket, and hesitated, "…Do you want some candy?"
On the other end, Dick, whose communication had been cut off, no longer held back his laughter. He asked Alfred on the other side of the line, "So this is the friend Tim mentioned he's going to hang out with tomorrow? He knows Robin?"
When Dick had come home, before patrol, his dear little brother had given him a hug, and in the middle of their conversation, mentioned his plans for the next day or two—saying tomorrow was the weekend and he planned to go out with a friend.
Because of Jason, Dick was very concerned about Tim's safety and well-being. Even unconsciously, a forceful need for control had already wrapped itself around Tim.
Tim wasn't unaware of this, but he had chosen to join the team knowing all of it. So he accepted all the pressure he was under now and worked hard to ease the family atmosphere.
Dick was his idol, his guiding star, and he was willing to give up some of his freedom to put Dick's mind at ease about his safety.
Even before Dick showed his concern, Tim would proactively, casually, bring up his plans.
So Tim, like the obedient little brother every older brother hoped for, smiled and gave Dick a hug when he came home, casually mentioning his plans for tomorrow.
He was hinting to Batman and Nightwing—I'm safe, you can know my whereabouts anytime, I won't slip out of your sight.
So under Tim's slow, gradual approach, Dick's initial tension finally began to ease.
But now, past experiences still prompted him to confirm the answer with Alfred. He was worried that Tim's identity might have been exposed to an outsider.
Alfred, clearly understanding Dick and the implication beneath the question, explained through the comms, "Mr. Sunlight is a Metropolian."
One sentence explained where Silo's overly familiar nature came from.
Dick relaxed a bit. He laughed, "How rare. Looks like Tim doesn't want me hearing his private conversations with his friend."
Alfred: "We generally don't refer to monitored conversations as private."
"Hey, I wasn't eavesdropping!" Dick felt a twinge of guilt, then quickly became matter-of-fact. "I wouldn't interfere with Tim's friendships. I trust Tim's judgment."
He chuckled. "—After all, this is the little detective who discovered our identities years ago and kept it secret for so long."
With Nightwing on duty, the rest of Robin's time belonged to himself. Tonight's Gotham was relatively quiet, so Tim could spare the time to walk his terrified desk mate home.
"The way you handed out candy was like a programmed robot—so stiff and mechanical, Little Robin." Silo bit down on the green mint candy Robin had given him, a crisp crunch sounding as he spoke indistinctly.
Tim turned his head and stared at the curly-haired boy who was still obediently crunching his candy for a moment. Silo had taken all the candy from his hand earlier. Silo didn't seem to have any sense of moderation, but the only ones he'd unwrapped and put in his mouth were the green mints.
"I believe I've rejected that nickname?" Robin tested.
"But I like calling you that," Silo replied.
The curly-haired boy tilted his head. His eyes were still slightly red, not yet recovered, and those blue eyes landed on Robin beside him, his sharp canine teeth faintly visible between his lips. As if realizing something, he asked softly, with a hint of disappointment, "So, are you going to reject me again?"
And the wicked Kryptonian, skilled at playing the pitiful card, always got what he wanted.
The next day, Silo Sunlight received an invitation from his deskmate.
【Can I come to your place today? I've prepared some cookies.】